


Gotta Make You A Woman, Gotta Make Me A Man

by OwenToDawn



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Gender Issues, Nursing Kink, Prostate Massage, Sexual Intimacy Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:48:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25925392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwenToDawn/pseuds/OwenToDawn
Summary: “I love you,” he blurts out.Dorothea’s eyebrows raise before she smiles. “I love you too, Sylvain. Did you come here just to tell me that?”“No, I just…got distracted by my own thoughts,” he says, and it could be a line, but Dorothea’s gotten good at telling the difference between the cheesy lines he says just to make her roll her eyes and the genuine ones. “And I have the uh…Manuela got the item you ordered…”
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 43





	Gotta Make You A Woman, Gotta Make Me A Man

**Author's Note:**

> For the record, everyone here is cis but I tagged gender issues cuz of Sylvain having issues with how he perceives himself as a man
> 
> Title from Samo & Grace by Cake Bake Betty
> 
> Comments are loved

Manuela slides a little velvet bag containing the item he’d requested with a wink and an offer to give him a ‘practical demonstration’. He can feel himself flush so much he’s sure his skin matches his hair and he all but sprints out of the infirmary while her laugh follows after him. It’s not often Manuela can take him off guard. More often than not, they’re happy to trade flirtatious barbs while Dorothea and Byleth watch on with barely concealed amusement, but this…this is much more serious than some harmless flirting.

This is. Real.

He ducks into an alcove and opens the little pouch, heart leaping up to his throat when he sees what’s inside. It’s not like it’s a surprise, but still, he finds himself mortified by the sight of the toy that will fit neatly into the harness Dorothea asked Hilda to custom sew for them. Hilda still hasn’t stopped looking suggestively at him when eating certain fruits.

“Hey Sylvain, what have you got…oh.”

Sylvain freezes, staring at Ferdinand who’s staring down at the little bag with a flush of his own creeping up his neck.

“I see. Well. I’ll just…”

“Wait,” Sylvain says. “How do you even know what’s in here?”

"It’s just I…well you see, Bernadetta and I…I need to go.” Ferdinand says the last few words in a rush and all but flees down the walkway. “Have fun!”

Sylvain slumps back against the wall and shoves the bag in his cloak and tries to remind himself that he’s doing all of this for a reason. That reason being he has…issues in bed. Performance issues. Of course, he’s never had any complaints about his skills before Dorothea, and Dorothea has been plenty pleased with his skilled tongue, but when it comes to his own orgasms…he can’t stay hard.

It’s fear, probably. Not for the first time, Sylvain wishes he were attracted to men because that would probably eliminate the issue. But he’s not, and he’s sort of in love with Dorothea even if his brain can’t quite fathom that sometimes. She’s the only person he’s ever thought he could have sex that way with and when it came time for it to happen, he couldn’t even do it. It’s not that he doesn’t trust her – he does. He probably trusts Dorothea more than anyone except maybe Felix.

Which…now that he thinks about it, Felix might be an exception to his straightness too. But he’s already in the throes of a sexual crisis and he really doesn’t need to add another one to the mix, so he shoves those thoughts away and heads back up to the second floor. Dorothea has a room up there now too. The old rules of keeping the nobles on the second floor was washed away with Rhea, and the few people who were bothered by it swiftly changed their opinion after a conversation with Byleth. It works out just fine for Sylvain. He likes having Dorothea’s room right next to his.

Some nights they share, but others, Dorothea prefers her space. It’s odd, Sylvain thinks, the way he desires to be close to her all the time, the way he desires to wrap himself around her and have her wrapped around him. He craves the intimacy of skin pressed on skin. Originally, she’d teased him for it, laughing that he wanted sex all the time. But it isn’t sex he wants. He just wants to be close. Once she’d realized that, even if she wanted to sleep in her own bed, she always spent the hour before departure petting his hair and running her fingers over his neck and chest as they talked.

She’s been so understanding, taking in every small, shameful thing Sylvain reveals to her with a smile and reassurance. So this…this is no different.

And apparently is something Ferdinand has engaged in which well…Ferdinand is every ounce of a stereotypical manly noble, so he supposes if Ferdinand enjoys it, there’s no reason he can’t either. Though he doubts Ferdinand has the same issues he does. After all, he seems quite proud to be a noble, even _i_ _f_ all his land and riches and family have been stripped from him.

He takes a deep breath knocks on Dorothea’s door. For a moment, he hears nothing and thinks that perhaps she’s out. Before he can walk away though, he hears the lock turn and a moment later, Dorothea opens the door, her hair done up in a rather sloppy imitation of the braids Petra wears. He knows she’s been trying to learn so she can help Petra with her hair. Not for the first time, he feels his heart race with how fucking in love he is with this woman and the way she tries so hard to bring everyone around her comfort in any way she can.

“I love you,” he blurts out.

Dorothea’s eyebrows raise before she smiles. “I love you too, Sylvain. Did you come here just to tell me that?”

“No, I just…got distracted by my own thoughts,” he says, and it could be a line, but Dorothea’s gotten good at telling the difference between the cheesy lines he says just to make her roll her eyes and the genuine ones. “And I have the uh…Manuela got the item you ordered…”

He pulls it out of his cloak and hands it to her. She takes it and peeks inside before closing the little drawstrings and reaching out to curl her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down so she can press their lips together.

“Thank you for bringing it to me,” she says. “Do you want to try tonight?”

Sylvain swallows, breath coming faster. “I…maybe?”

“Sylvain…we’re not doing anything with this unless you’re sure,” she says. “I’m not interested in it if you aren’t willing, and you can change your mind at any time, okay?”

"I know, I know that I just…” He presses his forehead to hers, turns his head a little so he can catch the scent of the herb oil she uses to keep her hair so soft. “I don’t think I’ll ever be entirely ready. It’s always going to scare me.”

Dorothea sighs and pulls him into her room, shutting the door and turning the lock once he’s securely inside. “Can I try something with you now?”

“What?” he asks.

She pulls away and sets the bag down on the desk before looking back at him. “Just my fingers. I don’t even want to put them in you.”

Sylvain takes a deep breath and nods. He can try. He knows he can try, and he knows he can always say no too. He strips out of his clothes and climbs onto her bed, watching propped up on his side as she goes about untangling her hair and twisting it instead into the thick braid she sometimes uses when she sleeps. Next, she pulls on one of her silk nightgowns, the kind that make Sylvain sigh when he feels it against his skin. And then she slips into bed with him, smiling as she hooks a hand around the knee of his top leg and guides it up over her thigh.

Immediately, he feels like he needs to be on guard, and he can feel his muscles tense from head to toe. Dorothea presses their lips together and that helps, but he still finds himself holding his body as still as he can from the way the position exposes him. She doesn’t touch below his hips though. Instead, she teases her tongue along his lips, runs her fingers feather-light over his spine, the soft touch making him shiver a little and relax with each pass up and down.

It’s nice. While there’s no expectation of it going anywhere sexual, and as she skates her nails across his lower back, he can feel himself start to harden. That itself isn’t all that unusual. What is unusual is that as they kiss, he _stays_ that way. But Dorothea doesn’t let it go anywhere, allowing him to press his cock into the soft folds of her night gown once or twice before gently easing him away and distracting him with kisses along his jaw.

He loses himself in the feeling of her fingers on his skin and the press of her body through the soft silk. The sensations are warm and inviting – safe. Her fingers skirt over his hip and over his ass, down his thigh to slip over the back of his knee and he laughs into the kiss at the ticklish sensation it leaves behind. Dorothea bites his lower lip, gentle, and then sucks on it slow. His laugh melts into a gasp and he rocks into her, marveling at how it feels to be aroused and not afraid.

“I’m going to touch you now okay?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper against his spit-slicked lips.

“Okay,” he breathes.

Her fingers slide up his thigh and then down. They glance over his hole and he flinches away, but she moves past it to the space of soft skin between there and his balls. He shivers, face dropping to rest against her chest. She doesn’t keep her touch light the way she had when dancing over his back, instead pressing two fingers together and pushing up, rubbing in small circles the way he’d rub at a woman’s clit. And it…it feels good. Like a deep thudding pleasure radiating up from where her fingers press and into his balls, into his cock.

“O-Ohhh…”

"Yes, just like that, that feels nice, doesn’t it?” she asks.

Instinctively he bites at the fabric of her nightgown, sucking at it. Humiliation floods him as she shifts to tug her night gown down out of his grip and exposes her breasts, offering the right one up to his mouth. He kisses the soft skin above her nipple and then licks down, taking it into his mouth and sucking.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she says, and then her fingers press down harder. “I’m pressing on your prostate from the outside. That’s why it feels so good. Nothing to be afraid of.”

His brain feels too slow to process everything that’s happening, the way he derives such comfort from suckling at her nipple and the way it feels as he cups and squeezes it. He slips his tongue over her nipple and groans as her fingers press against the space again. Pleasure thuds through him in slow waves and his eyes slide shut as he rocks his hips, fucking his cock against the silk of her gown and then shifting back so her fingers will press a little harder against that spot.

Eventually, he has to pull away from her breast. He doesn’t trust his teeth. He buries his face in the soft skin between her breasts and bites at her there as he whines out another embarrassing noise and she soothes him with a kiss to the top of his head.

“I think I…D-Dorothea…I-I’m…”

“Just like that baby, come on, you can come for me. Come for me sweetie, I want to see it,” she says, her words a soft sigh against his ear.

His fingers tear at the fabric of her gown as he comes, the orgasm rolling through him in waves that leave him gasping and desperate with tears gathering at the corners of his eyes for some reason he can’t quite define. Dorothea pulls her fingers away and grabs his thigh, rolling them so he’s stretched on top of her as his hips jerk their way through the rest of his orgasm. Even when it’s over, he feels like he can’t move. He wants to, he _should_. His weight _must_ be uncomfortable. Dorothea is strong, but she’s a mage, and Sylvain knows he’s all hard muscle, but Dorothea does nothing but wrap her arms around him and hold him as he catches his breath.

“I think we’ll have to work up to the toy, but this is definitely an improvement, wouldn’t you say?” Dorothea asks.

“I…came all over your night gown,” Sylvain says, grateful that Dorothea isn’t making him look at her. He can feel how heated his face is.

“You did,” Dorothea says, not bothering to keep the smug tone out of her voice. “I’m quite proud of myself for that. And you. I’ve been wanting you to be able to feel safe enough and let go to finally do it.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do it sooner,” he says.

“Oh hush,” she says. Her fingers slide up and down his spine again, tracing swirling designs over every inch she touches. “We all have our hang ups. I’m just grateful you trust me to explore them with you at whatever pace you want to set.”

“I don’t…” He kisses her neck again and tries to gather his thoughts. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“No one has to earn the right to be loved, Sylvain,” Dorothea says.

And if she notices the tears that fall against her neck and collarbone, she doesn’t say another word. But she doesn’t let go either.


End file.
